From Dog Collar to Veil
by red day dawning
Summary: Sirius/Kingsley - Their relationship from the time Kingsley first commands Sirius, through the madness and memories of Azkaban, to the Veil in the Department of Mysteries and beyond. Warnings: mild D/s, implied torture/noncon, character death, m/m sex.


**From Dog Collar to Veil**

Beta-read by the multi-skilled **alwaysasnapefan**, who not only did a great job, but also sorted out some PC difficulties for me.  
**Warnings**: mild D/s; slash sex; torture (implied); non-con (implied); angst; character death  
**Disclaimer**: JKR, _Bloomsbury Publishing_ and _Warner Brothers_ own the HP characters and settings. The author receives no financial gain from this work.

1. **Fetch **  
"Without warning"

Kingsley could not help but smile—Sirius was infuriating, but undeniably charming. _The man would probably flirt with his grandfather_, Kingsley thought, and then reflected, _no, not with his family history. He'd flirt with some-one else's grandfather though_.

Sirius loved the steady, low command of Kingsley's voice. There was no question of denying, of refusing any command given in _that_ voice. He could say _'sit_', and Sirius would sit, like a good dog. He could say 'suck', and Sirius would drop to his knees, here and now, in front of everyone and _suck_. Oh, how he wanted that, he wanted that so much—to simply drop to his knees in front of the entire Order, and kneel between the man's legs and take his dark cock in his mouth, slowly drawing it in…

* * *

"Sorry, what did you say, Kingsley?" Sirius asked, praying that he would not blush, that his arousal was not apparent.

"I would like to speak to you later," Kingsley rumbled in that deep, authoritative voice, "After the meeting. No need to delay everyone. Just a simple matter you could help me with."

Sirius nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.

The meeting seemed to drag on even longer than usual. At last, at long last, finally everyone left. Feeling his pulse in his throat, Sirius asked, "What was it you wanted, Kingsley?"

The dark man looked at him steadily, without replying. Then he said "I want you on your knees, in front of me. Wearing my collar."

Sirius stared at him wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open.

"Do you have a collar?"

Sirius nodded, slowly.

"Fetch it."

* * *

2. **Good Boy **  
"Fall to your knees"

Sirius bounded down the stairs feeling as though his heart was lodged in his throat. Slowing his pace a little, he thought, _what if Kingsley had been joking? What if Kingsley had left? _ He walked back into the kitchen, his heart thumping painfully in his chest—Kingsley was still there, standing calm and impassive, his hands on his hips.

"Have you got the collar?" Kingsley asked in his deep, slow, rumbling voice.

Wordlessly, Sirius handed his leather dog collar to Kingsley. The tall, dark man took the collar with a nod, pulling it slightly to test its strength.

"Very good," he rumbled. "Now, will you wear this collar for me? Will you be good dog and do as you're commanded?"

Sirius nodded, speechless.

"I'll reward you when you're good. And punish you when you're bad. You will always obey me. If you ever want me to stop, if ever you're frightened or in too much pain, or you think you can't endure it, just say the words "safe word" and I'll stop. Immediately. No matter what I'm doing. Do you understand?"

"Yes," whispered Sirius.

"Fall to your knees. That's a good boy," Kingsley rumbled in his deep, slow, reassuring voice. "Good boy," he said, stroking his hair, fastening the collar carefully around his neck. "Now, suck me," he ordered.

Sirius looked up at Kingsley's dark, serious face and shivered. This was _better_ than anything he had imagined… He carefully opened Kingsley's fly, and drew out his dark, heavy cock. It was already stiffening, huge and shiny.

He stroked it—"No hands," rumbled Kingsley. He gently licked a glistening pearl of pre-come from the end, and then slowly, slowly drew the length into his mouth. It was too big; he jerked back, choking a little, and then breathing out, tried again. He got a rhythm happening, sucking, drawing and out, harder and faster, peering through his dark eyelashes at the big man standing impassively above him, until he was rewarded with a strangled, gasped, "That's it—yes—harder, yes—I'm going to come down your throat—swallow it, swallow my come," and Sirius did, swallowing every last salty drop.

"Aaah," exhaled Kingsley. "Good. Good boy."

* * *

3. **Oh, the Insanity**

Sirius could hear noises around him, like voices echoing, but he refused to let the sounds touch him. He curled his body into a tight protective ball, in the corner where cold stone walls met the damp stone floor. Cradling his head in his hands, he tried to block out all sight and sound: _he could survive this! He had to survive this; he was the only one who knew the truth! _He could feel hands touching him, and could hear those voices again_: he could block them out! He had to block them out! He could survive this! He had to survive this!_

"Sirius, Sirius, look at me, just look at me," he heard a deep, reassuring voice say, and then, in a louder, angrier tone, "Shit!" Arms reached out to touch him, and pull him into a tight embrace—he felt like a child again, cradled on someone's lap, in strong arms, soothed by the vibrations of a lullaby sung by a slow, deep voice (_whose voice? _his panicked mind clawed and scrabbled_, who is it?_), and then the warmth and strength of those arms, and the soothing rhythms of the voice began to slowly, slowly penetrate him.

"Kingsley?" Sirius whispered, his voice so hoarse and rasping he could barely recognize it as his own. _Shit_ he thought, _oh shit, that's all I need, Kingsley is NEVER going to want me again. Oh shit, Kingsley knows._

"Sirius," the deep voice rumbled against his skin, "You're safe now, I'm here; you're safe here with me."

"Kingsley," Sirius sniffed, trying to wipe snot and tears away from his face, "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Sshh," Kingsley said, conjuring up a warm, moist cloth and handing it to Sirius, who gratefully wiped his face clean. Lifting him as though he really were a small child, Kingsley carried him the few steps to the bed, and, pulling back the covers, placed him on it. He 

helped Sirius peel off his clothes, stripped off his own robes, and climbed in next to him, carefully pulling the blankets up to cover them both.

"Sleep now," was all he would say as Sirius tried to explain/excuse/erase all memory of his behavior.

"Sssh," he said, interrupting Sirius with a light kiss. "Sleep now, that's a good boy," he rumbled in deep, reassuring tones, firmly wrapping his arms around Sirius, and holding him close.

Sirius felt himself drifting off into sleep, comforted by the strength and warmth of the other man's body, his head pillowed on his chest, deeply reassured by the sound of the slow, steady heartbeat.

* * *

4. **The Fundamental Point**

Sirius woke up feeling unusually rested. Safe. Secure. Warm strong arms encircled him—he was nestled against a warm strong body.

A deep voice rumbled against him, "You awake now, Sirius?"

"Kingsley! What happened? Why are you here?" Sirius asked, wriggling free so he could face the other man.

"Don't you remember?"

"No… maybe," he whispered, starting to tremble as he remembered. "I really lost the plot, didn't I? I thought I was back in Azkaban."

"Ssh," soothed Kinsley in his deep, sonorous voice, wrapping his arms more tightly around the smaller man, "You're safe now. You're here with me, and I won't let them take you back."

Sirius allowed himself to relax in the comfort of the other man's arms. The warmth and safety in those arms, the feel of bare skin against him, aroused him. His cock began to stiffen, and he pressed himself against the other man. He rocked gently against Kingsley's muscular belly, his arousal increasing as the other man moaned and adjusted his position so that their cocks rubbed against each other.

Sirius opened his mouth eagerly as Kingsley pressed their lips together. Their tongues tangled and entwined, slick and sliding past each other.

Sirius moaned as Kingsley whispered a lubrication spell, and grabbed their cocks in his big hand and began to stroke them, each touch sliding their erections against each other. Slowly at first, and then responding to their increasing urgency, harder and faster his hand worked.

Sirius glanced down, and the sight of his cock, pale and hard and leaking, thrusting against Kinsley's dark cock, wrapped in that big, dark hand was too much, and he came with a cry, a white splatter onto the pale skin and the dark skin, and Kingsley came with him, his big cock convulsing and pulsing, spurting on them both.

"Ah, mmmm," Sirius moaned, inarticulate and happy. "'s good," he said, pressing his head against Kingsley's shoulder.

Kingsley quietly chuckled, and then murmured, "Yes, it was good."

Sirius sighed contentedly, but then, feeling anxiety rise, he said, "I was worried you might not want me anymore. Not after seeing me like… that."

Kingsley chuckled again, a deep soothing sound, "I'd already figured you were a bit crazy, Sirius. Seeing it doesn't change anything. It just makes me want to look out for you a bit more. Makes me feel protective."

"Really?" asked Sirius, simultaneously horrified and delighted: part of him wanted to sit up and protest that he did not require Kingsley's protection, and part of him wanted to sigh with contentment and stay in the embrace of those strong arms.

"Really," replied Kingsley. "The fundamental point is that you are mine now: you belong to me and I won't let anyone hurt you or take you away. You are _mine_,"he growled.

* * *

5. **The Question is Obvious**

_Why did Kingsley want Sirius?_ _What did he see in this half-crazed, wasted man?_ _The question was bloody obvious_, thought Sirius gloomily, swallowing another gulp of fire-whiskey. It was the answer that was unclear, and it didn't seem any clearer the more he drank.

_Fuck_ _it_, he thought. _I don't really give a fuck, it's not like he'll really be interested anymore. Oh, he'll be interested, so bloody _concerned_ with poor bloody Sirius and his faltering grasp on sanity. But he won't be _interested_, not in me, not _that_ way, not giving me orders, Merlin, it's so hot when he tells me what to do_… and Sirius reached his free hand to clumsily unfasten his trousers and pull out his half-hard cock_._

Moaning as his hand roughly scraped around his slowly hardening cock, Sirius put down the half-empty bottle, pulled his pants completely off, wriggling and squirming to find a position so he could roughly finger himself with one hand as he pulled himself off with the other. _Oh yes_ he moaned, _oh Merlin, yes, just like this, rough and hard, Kingsley's wrapped his hand around my cock, and I'm feeling Kingsley's fingers, no Kingsley's big, hard cock, he hasn't fucked me yet, but now I'm feeling Kingsley's big, hard cock, oh so big, pushing against my arsehole, oh yes…_

"Sirius!" he heard, the sound of the deep voice filling the room. He hadn't heard him enter, but there was Kingsley standing right in front of him, looking serious and stern.

"Kingsley?" Sirius gasped, _oh this was bad, this was awful, this was as bad as his mother and Regulus walking in on him fucking himself with that dildo…_

"What are you doing, without me?" Kingsley asked, and Sirius was so surprised he could gape at the other man, his mouth ajar. "I have not given you permission."

Regaining his failing, flailing wits, Sirius defiantly said, "You have never said I couldn't!"

He gazed up at the other man with his serious face, barely breathing—eagerly awaiting an outcome—then he saw that familiar slow smile cross over Kingsley's face, as he replied, "Well, no, I haven't, have I? So I can't really punish you."

Unaccountably Sirius felt disappointed… _punish him_?

"But I _am_ here now, so kneel!"

Feeling his blood warm and his cock harden again, Sirius stalked over to the dark man and knelt between his feet. He reached up to unfasten Kingsley's trousers, happy when Kingsley nodded and said "Yes. Good boy."

Drawing the big cock out from his trousers, Sirius licked the tip, treasuring the sound of the softly exhaled breath he had caused, and then slowly drew the full shaft into his mouth. "No hands," Kingsley warned, and Sirius obliged, slurping and sucking the full length in and out, relishing the feel of the cock stiffening in his mouth and the faint savory flavor of pre-come.

"Enough!" Kingsley commanded, "Now undress and get on your hands and knees—that's right, facing away from me, point that arse at me, yes."

Shivering with anticipation, Sirius waited, hearing the rustling of clothes as Kingsley undressed. He heard the other man come closer. His limbs were trembling now—he felt the other man come closer, even felt his exhaled breath against his naked skin.

Despite expecting it, Sirius gasped when Kingsley ran his large hands over his buttocks and flanks. One hand followed the line of his flanks around to his abdomen, the other stroked his cleft softly, caressing down to feather over his perineum and over his balls. Sirius could not control his shaking—he felt as though these feather-light touches were almost enough to make him come.

Kingsley gently began stroking a finger up and down his cock; moistened with pre-come, the touch was tantalizing, gliding. Kingsley chuckled as Sirius moaned, his hips involuntarily jerking.

"Impatient, aren't you? But not just yet—I want you to beg!"

"Please," whimpered Sirius.

"Really beg. Beg like you mean it."

"Oh, please, please," Sirius whimpered, frenzied by the stimulus of the feather-light touches, his hips frantically canting back and forth.

With lubricated fingers, Kingsley began to circle his puckered hole, and then slide them in and out. One finger, then two, and then three, as Sirius begged and whimpered.

"You want more?" Kingsley whispered huskily.

"Please," he cried out, "please, more! Fuck me! _Please_!"

Bracing himself against Sirius's hips, he smoothly slid himself in, deep and hard and slow. Steady, without hesitation. Smoothly, slowly, all the way in.

"Oh fuck," whined Sirius. "Oh fuck, yeah, that feels so good, yes, fuck me hard," driving himself against Kingsley, whining, moaning, slamming himself back. Lowering himself to his elbows, he pushed back harder and faster.

Balancing on one elbow, Sirius reached for his cock.

"No," commanded Kingsley, "Not until I say."

Sirius moaned and whined, as Kingsley _roared, _thrusting his orgasm deep into the other man. "Now!"

And Sirius came, without even touching himself—arching spurts of creamy white semen into the air, howling.

The two men slowly and carefully lowered themselves, so that Sirius was lying on the floor, trying to slow his breathing, with Kingsley draped over him, relaxed and replete.

Resting his head against Sirius's sweaty back, his lips against skin so that Sirius could feel the press of his smile and the rumble of his voice, Kingsley murmured, "Fuck, but you i_are/i_ a beautiful fuck. I've wanted to fuck you since I first saw you—I thought this guy is half nuts: he's so passionate, reckless, and impulsive—but I bet he's hot in bed."

Sirius thought the answer became a _little_ clearer.

* * *

6. **A Treasure Trove**

The meeting was finally coming to a close, and people were rising from their chairs to leave. Sirius thought the meetings in the last few weeks were getting even longer, and the 

discussions even more meaningless. Sirius thought his impatience was certainly exacerbated by the fact he hadn't had time alone with Kingsley for far too long.

Watching Kingsley out of the corner of his eye, Sirius wriggled and squirmed a little on his seat. The mere sight of Kingsley caused Sirius to harden—it was like an invisible line connecting Sirius's eyes to his cock, so just a glimpse of him felt like the press of a large, dark hand against his cock.

The dark Auror appeared calm, unhurried, unflustered. But then, he _always_ appeared calm, unhurried and unflustered, Sirius thought. Quite unlike himself, he reflected. He _knew_ he was impatient.

"Sirius, a word with you please," Kingsley asked in his rich, resonant voice.

"Ah yes, of course."

With a hand on Sirius's arm, Kingsley gently guided the smaller man into the library. Closing the door behind him, Kingsley ran his hand over Sirius's shoulders, up to the back of his neck. "Ah," he rumbled in his deep voice, "You are wearing your collar. Good boy."

The words seem to vibrate through Sirius, stiffening him into complete hardness.

Kingsley sat down on the sofa, maneuvering Sirius so that he stood between his open knees. "And have you been a good boy?"

Licking his lips, Sirius replied, "Y-e-e-s."

Frowning slightly, Kingsley sternly studied the other man's face. "Hmm, I am not sure if I can believe that."

Sirius looked down at Kingsley's knees.

"Have you been a good boy?"

Sirius nodded, his eyes meeting Kingsley's.

"We'll see," said Kingsley slowly. "Now, take your clothes off. Everything off, except your collar. No, don't worry about locking the door… I don't think I'd mind people watching you being such a good boy."

Hastily stripping, Sirius felt his cock stir and jerk at the thought of an audience.

Kingsley's laughter rumbled, "Like that idea, do you? Now, turn around, that's right, show me your pretty white arse, bend over, let me see that tight hole. Hmm, I could order you to bend over like that in public, so everyone could see that sweet tight hole, that treasure trove between your spread cheeks. Eager, aren't you? Look at how your cock jerks at the thought, leaking and dripping pre-come.

"Now, come here and suck me!"

Panting in excitement, his fingers clumsy in his haste, Sirius unfastened Kingsley's trousers, opening them so that the huge, dark cock, shining and glistening with pre-come, jerked free. Looking up at the dark man through his eyelashes, Sirius licked slowly up the hard cock, and then opening his mouth wide, swallowed him to the stem. Kingsley's hands framed his face, holding him gently in place, as Sirius sucked and swallowed and dipped his head, until Kingsley rumbled, "Enough. Turn around, on your hands and knees. Spread your legs, show me that tight hole."

Sirius fell to his hands and knees, spreading his legs wide apart and pointing his arse up so that he was entirely exposed.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you, slowly and hard," Kingsley rumbled, "And you will not touch yourself, you will not come, until I say." Sirius gasped as Kingsley's whispered spell lubricated him and simultaneously fastened a cock-ring snugly around his erection.

He moaned as Kingsley slowly and smoothly thrust into him, rocking his hips, so that the dark man's hard cock was sliding rhythmically in and out of Sirius's arse, slowly, each thrust teasing past Sirius's prostate to thrust in deeper, filling him up, until his cock was achingly hard and he felt as though he would scream.

He moaned and he whined, thrusting his hips back harder and faster—he felt and heard Kingsley's deep roar as his cock thrust deep into his channel and spasmed, spurting hot come into him. Kingsley grabbed him around the chest, pulling his upper body flush against his, and whispered the spell that released his cock ring, commanding, "NOW!" and Sirius screamed, the force of his orgasm tearing through him as he came untouched, spurting creamy white arcs into the air.

Whimpering with the intensity of the orgasm, Sirius slid back against Kingsley, collapsing as the larger man supported him. Eyelids fluttering, he lay back, as Kingsley stroked his sweaty hair, murmuring "Good Boy."

* * *

7. **A Wild Child **  
"One by one"

Despite being a man grown, and aged in Azkaban, Sirius Black was a wild child—a wild, willful passionate stormy child-man. He was made up of the wildest elements, equal parts of bright sunlight and the fiercest storms. As black as the darkest storm clouds; as wild and electric as thunder and lightning; as intoxicating as the release of the fiercest rains pelting down. Kingsley couldn't help but be drawn to the passion in him, his intensity, and his fierce capacity for surrender; the anger and the insane impulses and the sheer _ferocity_ of him. And the brightness of Sirius, the enthusiasm, his fierce love and loyalty and capacity for unadulterated joy! When Sirius smiled, it's like the sun rising, the first flames of dawn chasing the night away.

_The man is more than a little crazy_, Kingsley thought, and then he calmly wondered if, perhaps, he had not become a little insane too—it seemed to him that the times seem to demand a little insanity_._

On his first night off, for far too long, Kingsley Apparated straight to Grimmauld Place as soon as he left the Ministry. Logic told him that he should be too tired and weary for this; his hardening cock and the steady pounding of his heart told him otherwise.

He silently opened the wards and locks of the front door, and crept past the portrait in the hall. Although the kitchen lights are lit, there was no sign of anyone downstairs. The whole house felt quiet and empty—ominously quiet and empty. Ruled now by concern, rather than his lustful longings, Kingsley searched the house floor by floor.

It was only when he reached the top floor, where the hippogriff slept, that he finally found Sirius. To his relief, he seemed to be simply asleep, not caught in the quicksand of an Azkaban memory or lost in an alcohol haze.

Kingsley stood watching him for a while, silently. Asleep, Sirius seemed small and slight, so much less substantial than when awake, as though his energy and charisma made up part of his total volume. His dark hair was tangled over the dog collar around his throat, and his bathrobe had fallen open, and Kingsley could not stop wondering if he was naked underneath.

Sirius woke, suddenly certain he was not alone. He opened his eyes, quickly orienting himself—_ah, Buckbeak's room, Kingsley standing in the doorway. Kingsley standing in the doorway?_

Sleepily, Sirius smiled up at Kingsley.

Kingsley smiled at him, "Come, Sirius," he called.

Sirius rolled over sleepily, and then stood, yawning unselfconsciously.

"Come downstairs."

Instantly obedient, Sirius followed Kingsley downstairs to the library, still yawning sleepily. Kingsley sat in the red leather armchair next to the fireplace.

"Strip off your bathrobe."

Sirius stripped off his robe eagerly, his hardening cock waking him faster than a strong cup of tea.

"Ah, good boy, I see you've been wearing your collar. Now, kneel in front of me."

Sirius looked up at Kingsley, his eyes brightening by what he saw on the other man's face.

"You know what to do."

Sirius _did_ indeed know what to do, and deftly unfastened Kingsley's trousers and grasped him.

"No hands," warned Kingsley.

Taking him into his mouth, in and out and deeper still, Sirius thought to himself how he loved this, he simply _loved_ this.

He felt so safe and comforted and nurtured, wrapped in the security of Kingsley's commands. He trusted Kingsley; he knew that by handing over control to Kingsley he would never accidentally harm himself or anyone he cared about—Kingsley is in control.

Sirius thought he could come from this alone, the glorious feel of Kingsley's cock, the sensation of velvet covering hard steel, the sweet surges as Kingsley responded to the touch of his mouth and tongue.

"Stop," Kingsley ordered, his deep, rich voice rumbling soothingly.

Kingsley stood up, pulling Sirius up with him. With a flick of his wand, he expanded the sofa. He walked Sirius over to the sofa and pulled him down—it is now big enough for both of them to lie side by side, Kingsley's head at one end, Sirius's at the other.

"You know what to do."

As Sirius slid his mouth over Kingsley's erection, he felt Kingsley doing the same to him. Every sensation felt mirrored, doubled, multiplied and magnified, as though Sirius shared nerve endings with Kingsley. His voice muffled by Kingsley's cock, Sirius called out "Yes, oh yes," as Kingsley slid him deeper in, to the back of his throat, and the feel of Kingsley's laugh rumbling around him sent him over the edge, coming into Kingsley's mouth and throat.

As though this was just what he had been waiting for, Kingsley thrust deeper into Sirius's mouth, his voice roaring out the violent intensity of his orgasm, his hands gently holding Sirius's head, his cock pulsing in rhythm with Sirius's own.

Oh yes, Sirius _loved_ this.

Trying to catch his breath, Kingsley stroked Sirius's hair, whispering soothing endearments. The words themselves were meaningless, a jumble of 'good boy's and 'darling's and 'beautiful'; and Kingsley could hardly breathe through the intensity of the feelings swelling in his chest, in his heart.

One by one, Kingsley's habitual defenses had melted away—his calm, imperturbable demeanor, his insistence on being in control, his practice of distant and impersonal caring—dissolved, unable to withstand the relentless onslaught that was Sirius. Sirius, with all his stormy passions, his sunny brightness and warm affection, his anger and excessive drinking and the dark descents into the depths of Azkaban-memories, his limitless capacity for joy, his willingness, his ferocity and his vulnerability, had all mysteriously performed an alchemical reaction that Kingsley could neither withstand nor resist.

Kingsley had fallen in love with Sirius Black.

* * *

8. **Azkaban **  
"Hear the silence"

That Sirius trusts Kingsley is a given fact. That Sirius will always do as Kingsley commands seems another absolute; it doesn't even occur to Sirius to refuse.

So when Kingsley entered Sirius's room, bearing ropes, a silken blindfold charmed to completely blind when worn, earplugs charmed to entirely deafen the wearer, and a silken gag to silence him, and told him to strip, Sirius immediately agreed—after all, the only times he felt entirely safe, since his escape, were when he had surrendered to Kingsley's strength. It never occurred to him to question or doubt.

And when Kingsley tied him to the bed-post and fastens the charmed objects, Sirius is helplessly thrust onto another realm.

Although Kingsley had seen the trust Sirius places in him many times now, it never ceased to move and amaze him. When he entered Sirius's room and told him to undress, his heart began to pound and his cock hardened and ached long before he fastened the ropes, blindfold, charmed earplugs and silken gag.

The trust that Sirius had placed in Kingsley awed him; it warmed him, it made Kingsley feel soft and loving and tender. Sirius's submission softened his heart and hardened his cock – it moved him as nothing else could. As soon as the knots were tied and the objects secured, Kingsley felt as though he would weep with the intensity of it all—he could barely breathe as he stroked Sirius's face ever so gently. The trust that Sirius had so freely given… Kingsley thought he would die before he broke that trust.

As first sight, and then sound, is leeched from him, Sirius feels the panic begin to stir. Internally he begins to shriek, _They are coming, they are coming_ and even as his mind struggles with the notion that it was _Kingsley_ who placed him here, and that Kingsley can be trusted, thoughts of betrayal rise, and all hope is frozen and splintered. To his horror, although he is screaming _They are coming, oh Merlin, they're here_! he cannot make his mouth work, and he did not need his sense of hearing to know he is making no sound. He is trapped—the bed-posts behind him are transforming into the stone walls of Azkaban, the ropes at his wrist and ankle are changing to barbs of frost, the ice crystals that herald the arrival of the dementors, and there is nothing to stand between him and those hungry to feast upon him. And with this last thought his mind slipped away, gibbering and howling, to flee the dementors and their kiss.

Kingsley can see that Sirius is frightened, and he is moved that the man has permitted him to go so far despite his fears. Aroused and moved by Sirius's submission, Kingsley did not immediately recognize that Sirius's panic was deeper than the natural anxiety this bondage could evoke. He stood and admired Sirius's lean sinewy body, his gaze trailing down past Sirius's abdomen to his cock and balls, and then he paused and frowned.

Sirius has always responded to their games, becoming erect as soon as they begin to play. Kingsley quickly looks up at his face; even hidden by blind-fold and gag, Kingsley can see how pale Sirius has become, and how his face has contorted into a mask of madness and despair. He fought his anxiety, his heart pounding in the rhythm of panic; Kingsley deftly untied all the bindings fastened to Sirius, and whispered the spells for immediate release.

Although Sirius fell forward and collapsed in his arms, there was no response to Kingsley's anxious queries; he appeared entirely blind and deaf to his surroundings. Sirius was certainly not present anymore.

After the Dementors had finished with him, the guards came. Sirius had lived through this too many times not to be aware of the routine. The comments and observations designed to humiliate—these Sirius has learned to ignore many years before. The initial beatings were hard to bear; Sirius curled in a protective ball and prayed to deaf deities that he would not be permanently injured. But it was the final phase that Sirius found most difficult: the searing pain; the sense of complete and utter helplessness; the humiliation; the violation, as every pleasure from his past is torn away and deformed and destroyed; the seemingly endless longing for it to finally be over—this is what threatened to undo Sirius and unleash the last fragments of himself to the cold, wild winds of Azkaban.

But the worst of it, the absolute worst, was that even though Sirius could not recall a past relationship with one of the guard raping him, he knew every inch of inch of his body and the very timbre and tone of his voice with the familiarity of a well known and beloved lover—he recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt as one who had been dear to him, even as his flesh was being torn and ripped.

And it is the memory of this man that haunts Sirius as he lies naked and trembling, bleeding and torn, huddled in the corner of his cold bleak cell.

* * *

9. **Out of the Shadows**

Kingsley had no idea what to do next. Contacting the Healers at St Mungo's was not an option—Sirius Black was a wanted fugitive. He had contacted Dumbledore, who arrived almost immediately, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey, Minerva and Snape; he sent a message to Lupin; and even Flooed Arthur and Molly Weasley. They had sat around helplessly, making useless suggestions and wringing their hands.

All had left now, except for Lupin, who joined him sitting by the bed watching Sirius caught in a memory of Azkaban so powerful it overrode the here-and-now. They watched Sirius 

trapped so deeply he sat in the corner and trembled and could not hear their voices. When they gently lifted him onto the bed, he opened his eyes, the iris a silver-grey like reflective mercury, unable to take in light or colour.

* * *

_Time without measure passed._

_Every second stretched to an hour, every hour to a full day. Every day was an eternity._

_Sirius pressed himself against the cold, damp stones in the corner of his room, wiping his runny nose on his filthy sleeve._

_He was here. He was back. He had to find a way out_.

* * *

"You know, an Animagus is powerfully influenced by its animal nature," remarked Remus, speaking for the first time in more than an hour.

"And?" asked Kingsley, raising his bowed head from his hands.

"And perhaps we ought to try appealing to the dog part of Sirius—to Padfoot-within-Sirius."

"How could we do that?"

Remus slowly smiled at Kingsley, "Well, earlier you mentioned that you found Sirius in a similar state one day, and by holding and talking to him soothingly you brought him out. Sirius seems stuck further "in" now, so perhaps touch and a familiar voice aren't going to be effective. But a dog has a powerful sense of smell. So if we introduce scents that could not be present at Azkaban, it might "jolt" him back to the here-and-now."

"Remus, that's an idea worth trying. What smells would be most suitable?"

"Well, for now, I'd suggest food. Roast meat, gravy… the things a dog would especially be fond of, I suppose."

Kingsley nodded his head. "Perhaps Molly could help."

Remus laughed, "Well, that's a better idea than trying to entice Sirius home with my cooking. I'm not sure that the smell of dinner burning is much of an enticement!"

Kingsley laughed, feeling hopeful for the first time since he'd been unable to draw Sirius out of the fugue state he was in.

"I'll just go contact Molly. And perhaps Severus too—he might have some ideas about this."

Kingsley nodded, "Thanks, Remus. I'll stay here."

Kingsley listened to the fading sound of Remus's footsteps racing away. He climbed into Sirius's bed, wrapping his body against the smaller man to cradle him in the curve of his body. "I'll get you out of Azkaban, Sirius," he whispered.

* * *

_The incessant wind whispered, chanting nightmare-tales of blood and despair in languages beyond comprehension. The damp chilly mist clung to Sirius, its skeletal fingers stroking his cheek, ghosting over his hair, rubbing his torn flesh. The smell of salt, the sea, hung in the air, the only smell he could identify other than the smell of his unwashed still-bleeding flesh, and the smell of his fear._

* * *

Kingsley heard Remus and Snape arriving downstairs. He could hear the murmur of their voices as they climbed the stairs. He could smell the delicious food-smells heralding their arrival—they must have been to the Burrow before coming here, he thought.

Snape followed Lupin into the room; the werewolf's face looking both weary and hopeful. "Lamb stew and fresh bread, straight from Molly's kitchen," announced Lupin, brandishing the basket filled with covered pans.

"I can set up some spells to maintain the smell long after it would have usually faded. And have the scent wafting towards Black," Snape said, muttering charms under his breath. Curling his mouth into an almost-smile, he added, "I usually have to do the reverse spells  
when I'm preparing particularly pungent potions."

They all heard the loud rumble of Sirius's stomach, and turned hopefully to him as though expecting an instant miracle.

"I suspect we'll have to do this more than once," Remus said sadly. "Should we try and feed him?"

George arrived bearing the now-familiar basket, this time redolent with the aroma of garlic bread and spaghetti bolognaise. Remus and Kingsley had certainly been eating well, but they only managed to force a few drops of liquids down Sirius's throat.

"Mum packed a little pot of chicken soup—she said we had to feed Sirius some." said George, looking sadly at the wasted man.

After they had managed to spoon a little of the soup into Sirius, they settled down to eat their dinner. Remus and Kingsley spent most of their time in Sirius's room—leaving only when it was essential. Kingsley had gone into the Ministry only to pick up some files and drop off some paperwork.

* * *

Tilting his head to one side, George asked, "I wonder how he'll respond to Moony on the full moon?"

Both Remus and Kingsley regarded George thoughtfully.

"Why?" asked Remus, "Do you think it could make some sort of difference?"

"Dunno. But have you thought of asking McGonagall to visit while she's in her Animagus form? Or what about bringing a dog in—not an Animagus dog, just a mutt? They might be able to interact with Sirius somehow."

"Brilliant idea," Remus yelled as he ran out the door, "I'll owl Minerva immediately. And Hagrid will lend us Fang."

* * *

_The longer he sat in his cell, the more Sirius began to believe he could understand the words whispered on the wind. They were becoming almost decipherable. It was better to listen to the wind, he thought, than to dwell on the cold, damp salt air, or to think of his guards._

_An alien aroma crept into the cell—something he had not smelled here before. It smelled savory, warm, comforting, appetizing—like the smell of a family dinner. It made his thoughts shift a little; it almost felt as though the wind was hushed, and the cell walls were beginning to fade._

_But then the North Sea wind seemed to increase in pitch, a wail of icy despair._

* * *

George sat by Sirius's bed, stroking his hand. He felt for the poor guy—he'd had awful luck, George thought. George was a little wary of some of his moods, but he genuinely liked him—when Sirius was in a good mood, the whole world seemed a brighter place. He began to hum the lullabies his mother had sung to him, sliding from one tune into another without bothering about the words. He thought Sirius's face looked a little more relaxed now.

* * *

_The good food smells were so strong in his cell Sirius almost expected steaming plates in front of him. The wind had changed its pitch again, melodic humming ghosted through the cell now. None of this was usual for Azkaban._

* * *

Remus and Kingsley burst back into Sirius's bedroom, accompanied by Minerva and Fang. Kingsley rushed to the bedside as though he had been away for hours. He clicked his fingers to Fang, and the dog obediently came to sit next to the bed. Kingsley gently swept Sirius's tangled hair of his face and murmured, "Come back, Sirius. Come back."

* * *

_The wind silenced, Sirius lifted his head in alarm—the wind had never stopped before. He sniffed at the air, he could still smell the homely smells of food, and hear the murmur of familiar voices, and he could smell… dog. Dog? Surely there were no dogs in Azkaban…_

* * *

To Kingsley's enormous relief, Sirius lifted his head and opened his eyes and looked at them. _He was back._

* * *

10. **The Sun Shines Through  
**"A window in a wall"

Sirius stared up at the people standing around his bed in some confusion. What on earth were Kingsley, Remus, George, Minerva and _Hagrid's dog _Fang all doing here? What the hell was going on? One minute imprisoned in Azkaban, the next minute…. _Oh holy fuck, he'd lost his mind, hadn't he?_

Remus was so relieved when Sirius opened his eyes and _looked_ at them, confused, but clearly sane. But his relief was dwarfed by Kingsley's response—the big man seemed to expand, as though anxiety over Sirius had shrunken him, and he glowed, as though the sun had now risen. He watched Kingsley clasp Sirius's hand, and oblivious to all others, bring the hand to his mouth, tenderly pressing a kiss to the palm. It was good that Sirius had someone who cared for him so, Remus thought, and felt his heart warm—and then suddenly _freeze_ as he smelled fear, and saw the terror on Sirius's face as he looked at Kingsley._ What the fuck? _Remus growled low in his chest and advanced on Kingsley, "Get the fuck away from him."

George felt the smile stretching his face as Sirius gazed at them. And he grinned harder, thinking of the story he'd have for Fred, as he watched an obviously besotted Kingsley kiss Sirius's hand. And then nothing made sense anymore as Sirius cringed, and Remus growled and advanced on Kingsley with a murderous glint in his eyes, as though he would rip his throat out with bare teeth, "Get the fuck away from him."

George looked at Professor McGonagall, hoping she would intervene, but she looked helplessly confused and almost heart-broken and somehow older than ever before. So in the spirit of his parents, with his mother's fierce, indomitable loyalty, and his father's calm certainty, George stepped between the two men and firmly said "Remus, back down. Now. Kingsley, move away from Sirius, you're frightening him." To his relief, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor McGonagall advancing on Sirius to hold him protectively, and watched the two men step away from the bed and each other.

"Kingsley, Remus. I think Sirius is confused. Just let Professor McGonagall be with him for a minute."

Minerva walked down the stairs, feeling every second of her age and more. The fight against Voldemort was fraught with tragedy, and the destruction of this man, her brightest Gryffindor was not the least cruel.

She found Remus and Kingsley sitting in the kitchen, and joined them, and nodded her thanks as Remus poured her a cup of tea.

"He's gone back to sleep now. George is with him, in case he wakes or has nightmares."

"What does he say about what happened?" asked Remus, Kingsley listening intently, his face marked with anxiety.

Minerva shook her head, struggling to find the words for this confusing situation clear. "He says he _was_ in Azkaban, and doesn't understand how he suddenly came to be here. He experienced cruel treatment during this hallucination—Kingsley, I'm sorry to say this, but he believes you were one of the guards assaulting him—sexually assaulting him. That's why he was frightened when he saw you. He remembers the time before, and knows that you two had become close, but the memory of the brutal attack is stronger and seems more recent."

Remus glanced at Kingsley, sympathy evident on his face, and then faced Minerva, asking "What can we do? Could Poppy help him? Or one of Severus's potions?"

Shaking her head sadly, Minerva replied, "I'm not sure. I'm returning to Hogwarts now, and will inform Albus, Poppy and Severus about Sirius's recovery, and his need for treatment of some kind. Perhaps they will know what to do. In the meantime, George has said he can stay and help for a while, and says Fred can come over when he needs a break." Smiling at last, Minerva added, "Not that I'm entirely certain Fred is the best choice."

Grimmauld Place settled into sleep at last, only Kingsley was awake, pacing the library floor. He hadn't seen Sirius since earlier—Kingsley didn't want to upset Sirius, and yet part of him wanted to be with now, holding him close… Torn with indecision, Kingsley slowly made his way upstairs.

_Shapeless horrors reached out to clutch at him and nameless terrors lunged towards him, and Sirius ran, and even as he ran, he knew he was dreaming and this wasn't real, but he ran and ran, and in the distance he heard a voice calling him, "Good boy," and he turned towards the voice, for home and safety lay with those deep rumbling tones._

Wrenching himself awake, Sirius sat up—_It was Kingsley calling me_—and with that thought was the certainty that Kingsley cared for him, he surely did, and the not-real stint in Azkaban really had _not_ been real, and Kingsley was not a prison guard, and would never have allowed others to hurt him…

Still panting, Sirius gasped as he saw a dark shape fill the doorway, and then relaxed as he recognized the silhouette.

"Sirius, are you alright?" Kingsley hesitantly asked.

And Sirius replied "Yeah. I reckon I am now."

"Do you want me to go?"

And Sirius felt a smile cross his face, a real smile, and said, "Not until the morning."

* * *

11. **Because My Heart Knows**  
"Not listening to a word"

Sirius Black would not have described himself as a proud man. Arrogant, perhaps, but not proud. Nonetheless, despite his gratitude for those who had to care for him while he was… unwell, he felt ashamed that so many had been a witness to his… disturbance. Oh, fuck it, he thought to himself, if you can't admit the truth to yourself even—"Face it, Sirius Black, you went mad, nuts, you lost the plot, you were utterly insane!" he said out loud.

"First sign of madness, Sirius, talking to yourself," said Remus as he passed his open door.

"First sign, Moony? I think I've gone straight to madness sign number 10: 'you know you've gone nuts when you think you're in Azkaban, even when you're not'!"

Remus laughed, and then said in more serious tones, "You really feeling OK?"

"Sure. Bit embarrassed about all the fuss, but yeah, I'm fine."

Remus hesitated, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, and then he said, "Sirius, about Kingsley… well, it's obvious he really cares for you…"

Sirius flushed and smiled, "Yeah—well, I really care for him, you know."

"Yeah. But I've been thinking—look, I know that you and Kingsley, you know, play games, and I was thinking that maybe that isn't the best thing for you right now."

"What are you talking about, Remus?" Sirius asked, his voice becoming uncharacteristically cold.

"Well, this latest Azkaban thing, it shows that you're not at your best right now, and perhaps the kind of games you and Kingsley play aren't a good thing to do when you're still vulnerable. Perhaps that's what precipitated your current problem."

"Thank you, Remus. I will take your thoughts into consideration. No need to discuss this any further, or to mention it again. Indeed, I'm not listening to another word," Sirius said firmly, grabbing a fresh change of clothes and brushing past Remus to barricade himself in the bathroom before he lost his temper.

Sirius's rage dispersed, washed away with the suds of soap and shampoo as he showered. He heard Kingsley enter the steamy bathroom—he could feel his eyes on him, watching as he soaped his body, rubbing his hands over his chest and his belly, soaping up his already hardening cock.

Sirius couldn't resist displaying himself, rubbing his hands over his ever-present dog collar, caressing his balls and stroking his cock, his eyes shut as he pretended he didn't know Kingsley had entered the room.

Kingsley cleared his tight throat; Sirius was so beautiful—wasted and ravaged, yes, but so very beautiful. He shone like the sun, like the brightest of stars. "Sirius," he said, his voice deep and rumbling, "Come here."

Sirius turned the shower spray off, after rinsing the last of the soap away. He knelt gracefully at Kingsley's feet.

"Sirius," Kingsley said, feeling as though his heart might break. "No, you don't need to do that. Not now. Wait… until you're feeling completely well."  


"I am feeling completely well. Entirely recovered. Like a good dog," he whispered nuzzling Kingsley's groin through his trousers.

"Oh gods, Sirius. If you're sure… suck me, then."

Sirius smiled, glancing up at Kingsley through his dark lashes as he unfastened his trousers, pulling his big, beautiful cock free of his clothes. He licked up the shaft, and then drew his erection all the way into his mouth, in and out.

"Stop," Kingsley commanded. "Stand up. Place your hands against the wall, and point that sweet, tight arse at me. Spread your legs."

Sirius complied, groaning and bearing down on Kingsley's fingers as they slipped lubrication into his tight channel. He whined, loving the feel, wanting more. Kingsley toyed with him a little, twisting his fingers to stretch and prepare him. He moved closer, and began to rub his cock against the cleft of Sirius's arse.

"Please," Sirius whined again.

"You're mine, always mine," roared Kingsley, thrusting in deeply.

"Yours, yours always," Sirius moaned as Kingsley's huge, great hard cock hit the sweet spot inside him, and he came without another touch, creamy white spurts exploding from him and shooting up as though released under great pressure.

"Mine, mine," Kingsley continued, thrusting in deeply and smoothly, groaning as he came. He leaned against Sirius, and repeated, "Mine."

"Yours," whispered Sirius, thinking to himself, _I'll not listen to a word that says otherwise_. "Just yours."

* * *

12. **To Feel or Not to Feel?**

The call had gone out among the Order members—Potter had gone to the Ministry seeking Sirius—into a trap laid by Voldemort, using the boy's love for his godfather, and relying on his impetuosity. Kingsley cursed the boy's reckless, impetuous nature, and cursed the equally reckless and impetuous nature that dragged Sirius away from Grimmauld Place and to the Ministry.

_Fools,_ Kingsley cursed.

And yet that was part of why Kingsley loved Sirius so—that capacity for bright, blazing joy, that fierceness in loving, that courage that propelled Sirius into situations where any person of sense would surely be wary. That _passion_ that allowed and compelled Sirius to surrender to Kingsley, giving himself over completely, despite Remus's concerns and Kingsley's own qualms.

Sirius was a moth hurling himself joyfully into the heart of the flame, no holding back, no safe distances—and Kingsley, after all, was no different, he too was a moth hurling into the heat, the ferocity of loving Sirius, despite all his internal voices that pleaded for caution, and restraint, and common sense.

_To feel, or not to feel_?—it seemed Kingsley had made his choices, just like Sirius—and he _felt_ and he loved. And right now, when he ought to be focusing on Potter's danger in the Ministry… Wrenching his mind away from Sirius, Kingsley forced himself to concentrate on the most immediate and pressing concerns—to focus on the greatest priority: to get Potter and his fool companions safely away from the Ministry.

* * *

Incapacitated by pain, Kingsley reeled to the ground, aware of nothing beyond the pain of Bellatrix LeStrange's curse. And so, at the moment Sirius fell through the Veil, Kingsley was not aware of what was going on around him—was not aware that Sirius had fought his own battle with the LeStrange-bitch. And yet, of course, he _was_ aware. He _knew_ what has happened, surveying the scene with pain-distorted, bleary eyes; he _knew,_ looking at Harry and Remus; he _knew_ hearing the tones of grief and desperation in their voices. He knew. Sirius was gone.

_T__o feel, or not to feel?_ He longed for numbness, he wished he could stop feeling. And finally, he prayed to unknown gods, pleading that all such feelings be exorcised. But the gods he prayed to are, it seemed, both deaf and uncaring, and the pain never really went away—not after a month, a year, a decade.

He sometimes forgot for a second, a minute, half a day, and then some sudden recollection—a shaft of brilliant sunlight, a starry night sky, the sound of barking laughter, the heat and light at the heart of a candle-flame, a memory of the joy of being inside Sirius, buried deep—would ambush him, impaling him anew with loss and grief and memory.

To feel, or not to feel? It seemed there never really was a choice.

* * *

13. **The horizon is near**

Kingsley pushed open the Sirius's bedroom door, and entered the room. It was as messy and chaotic as its former occupant—clothes were strewn across the floor, rare and esoteric books were sprawled open across the desk, sheet and blankets were jumbled at the foot of the bed.

On the bedside table, next to a vase containing a single perfectly preserved scarlet and purple orchid, lay a leather dog collar.

It was not Sirius's own leather collar—that went with Sirius through the veil. It was a collar Kingsley had bought for Sirius, a gift not yet worn. A fancy collar, high quality black leather with sterling silver studs and buckles.

Swallowing past the constriction in his throat and blinking away the burn of tears, Kingsley approached the bedside table. Picking up the collar, he held it in his hand, gazing silently, then unbuckled it and fastened it around his neck. He whispered the words that resized the collar, and then muttered a spell to lock it in place, before leaving the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

Throughout the years Kingsley had been Minister for Magic, it was a secret known only to the enigmatic Unspeakables that at the end of each day, if not earlier, the Minister would enter the Department of Mysteries, go into the Death Chamber, and remain in there for some time.

* * *

Occasionally, one of the Unspeakables might hear the Minister's voice raised in deep, rumbling tones, sounding almost conversational, as though he were having a chat with an old friend or companion.

At other times, he was silent—although what he did no-one knew.

Being Unspeakables, long cured of any tendency towards gossip, it was never discussed.

* * *

When the Minister finally resigned from his position, citing his diminishing health as the reason, most employees of the Ministry were horrified as the prospect of losing the man who had, in the most tumultuous of times, introduced abiding stability and greater equality to the Wizarding World.

In the Department of Mysteries however, more than one employee wondered what would happen regarding his daily visits to the Veil.

And one particularly observant Unspeakable later told her friends, Harry Potter and George Weasley, that she had a presentiment of doom, a feeling of foreboding, on the day the Minister left his office for the last time and was seen entering the room containing the Veil. But being an Unspeakable, she told no-one else, and the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Kingsley Shacklebolt remained publicly unsolved.

* * *

And it was those three, George, Harry and Hermione, who went into the Death Chamber the evening following Shacklebolt's disappearance.

Sitting close enough to hear the Veil's hushed and sinister whispers, they lit candles for the two members of the Order of the Phoenix who had passed through the flimsy barrier, never to return.

It was George, his voice shaking with tears, who finally said, "Goodbye, Sirius and Kingsley. I know you're together now, at long last." As laughter struggled to overwhelm his tears, he added, "Be good. And if you can't be good, have fun being wicked."

* * *

_Later, Hermione always insisted that the joyous strains of laughter and shouts of farewell they had heard issuing from the Veil were merely tricks of the room's acoustics and the fanciful imaginings of their grief. Wisely, Harry and George never argued._

* * *

-fin-


End file.
